SHHH, Don’t Make Eye Contact
My middle child is as honest as a saint on judgment day. She is painfully honest. Yesterday we celebrated Travis’ birthday. We had dinner on our back patio. As we were chatting and discussing desert options, the buzz of a lawn mower interrupted our conversations. It was good old Claude, and he caught Sessy’s attention.
“Oh there’s the guy that hates Gucci!” Sessy stood on her chair and pointed directly to Claude. We all pretended that Sessy was invisible, and only a fragment of Claude’s imagination. It worked until she continued to say “I don’t know why he hates Gucci, he wants her dead! He is afraid of Gucci just like a little baby, he’s a little baby, oh what a little ba-by!” (Be sure to re-read that quote, this time read it in your best helium voice, she sounds like she is taking helium hits. And be sure to yell it at the top of your lungs.)
All right, point for Claude…point for Claude.
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